Never Trusting Soul
by Lindz
Summary: A Sixteen year old Rude has something he wants to explain. An event that influenced why he's quiet.


**Never Trusting Soul**

_A Sixteen year old Rude has something he wants to explain. An event that influenced why he's quiet._

_A few notes: Rude is a little, maybe a lot OOC. He is for a reason. 1. He's still a kid. 2. It's before he decided totally that speaking just got you into bother so it was best to shut up. 3. If you want to flame me because of it find, but as I said he's only 16, people change as they get older. _

_This story is an influence but not the sole reason why he doesn't talk too much. _

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**_ One minute they're there, the next they're gone....._**

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People aren't to be trusted. 

Most people never mean what they say. Words don't mean squat half the time. Facial expressions, however, are a different story. There are people in this world that can very easily read everything through someone's eyes. Why do you think I wear sunglasses now, to keep the sun out of eyes? Even at night? Even in the slums of Midgar? 

You have to watch your mouth in the slums, because if you say one thing out of line, you never know when it will come around and bite you in the ass. 

Of course, most people learn the hard way, like me.

I lost my whole family because of something I said.

Because I trusted someone.

Because I never watched what I said to people.

After that I was never a big fan of the full sentence. Not that it matter anymore. I didn't have anything left to lose by then. 

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**_ ....They say you never know what you've got, until you lose it..._**

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I still remember the house, a sea of red and orange flames dancing around it, mocking me. Telling me there was nothing I could do. My family gone in a matter of hours, and it was my fault.

Mum.

Dad.

Raine.

Madison.

All gone. Just like that. Just because I said the leader of the gang in Sector Seven was a 'twat', 'a dumb bastard who didn't know head from tail'. Just because I trusted one of my only friends.

The 'gang' ** torched** down my home.

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**_ ....And when it's gone, you miss it like hell....._**

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I still remember the twisted feeling I got in my gut when I saw the place I had lived all my life going up in flames. The very sudden urge I had to vomit everything I had eaten in my entire life, out onto the ground. The feeling I got in my legs as they turned to jelly, not wanting to hold my weight any longer. The blood crusted on my hands where my short fingernails had dug into my skin. The dull stench of smoke that drifted to my nose.

The charred reminds of the wooden house.

The body bags.

Looks of fear etched on their soot covered skin. Eyes open. Mouth posed as if they were screaming for their last breath. 

I couldn't take being in Sector Seven anymore. So I just ran. Away from the place I grew up. I just had to get away. 

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**_ ....But there's nothing you can do to get it back...._**

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I have no idea how I managed to end up standing in front of a bar in Sector Six, but there I was, in front of the tiny wooden door. It was like my brain had decided to block out everything except images of charred bodies, wood and bits of smashed glass. I took a minute to collect myself, although I had no idea how to. After a few minutes, I told my brain to forget it and pushed the door to with a bang. None of the people residing in the bar took a second look. My legs already felt as if I'd already had ten pints. I perched myself on one of the bar stools, next to a man who was looking at his drink as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. 

One look at him shouted out, 'slum boy dressed in a suit far too expensive for him'. He had long crimson coloured hair, tied back with a cheap rubber band. His white shirt what looked like it couldn't get anymore creased if it tried. A blue Jacket was laid out on the seat the other side of him. He was taller than me, but I was a tiny bastard. My mum always told me that I was still to have my growth spurt. I winced a little at the thought of my mum, but pushed it to the back of my head. 

I ignored the man and asked for a whiskey shot. I suppose I thought I needed something stronger than a pint, though before now I had never touched whiskey in my life. I saw the red head look at me from the corner of his eye. He chucked the drink to the back for his throat, heavy placing the glass back on the bar. 

"Bad life?" His voice cut through the silence of the bar. He was still looking in front of him. 

"...." I didn't feel like talking. 

"What's up? Cat got your tongue?" He asked, a tint of humour in his voice.

"No."

"Ah..." He said, signalling for another drink from the barman. I looked at him. 

"What do you mean, ah?" I asked. The barman came back over with the man's drink. He took it, staring at the amber coloured liquid for a while. He turned to me. 

"I've seen that look in someone's eyes before. The 'I'm not gonna open my mouth, coz last time I did shit happened' look." He replied, as a matter of faculty. This man was managing to surprise me more than once tonight.

"How did....."

"I know? Lets just say I'm good at readin' people." His vision turned back to his drink. Like the last, he tossed it to the back of his throat. He looked at me from the side. "Little young to be drinking aren't ya?"

"...." I didn't want to answer that. This time when he signalled for a drink, he asked for two. 

"Quit with the silent treatment already. Shit happens, you've just gotta get up and move on." With the last part of the sentence he motioned his arms forward. I stared at him for a few minutes. 

"How would you know!?" I asked sharply. He laughed. It wasn't a normal laugh, it was kind of bitter. 

"Lets say from experience."

"You like saying, 'lets say' quite a bit." I said, deciding I was getting really tired of this conversation, really quickly.

"You're avoiding the question." He told me. I know I was avoiding the question. I was for a reason. I decided to give him an answer to keep him quiet. 

"...Maybe I am, but excuse me for saying, you don't look much older." The barman came back again, with the two drinks the red haired man had asked for. He shoved one of them in front of me. 

"Looks can be deceiving." Instead of knocking this drink back, he began sipping it. It was starting to bug me how this guy seemed to know a hell of a lot of stuff and have an answer for everything I was throwing at him. 

"How do you know I'm not old enough then?" I mumbled.

"I know who you are. Hell, I know everyone's name under this god damn pizza." Putting his drink down, he touched his left index finger with his right one, as if going to make a run down of a few things. "Your name's Rude...." He touched his middle left finger. "...you're sixteen..." He touched his ring finger. "...and you live in Sector Seven." The guy was just purely freaking me out now. How can someone, know some much?

"....Who are you?" Ok. It wasn't the best question in the world, but it was a question never the less. 

"Lets just say I run Shinra." Deciding his drink wasn't draining fast enough for his liking, he tossed the rest of it into his mouth. "I also know that the gang in Sector Seven burned your house down yesterday night." 

"...." Now there was a subject I didn't want to go into. He continued. 

"They burned it down because apparently, you ruffed up one of their boys, which I know is a complete and utter lie." he placed his empty glass onto the bar top. "What happened was that you trusted someone, and it backfired on you." His right hand made it's way to a battered cloth wallet. 

"...." In my view, he didn't need a reply to that. He threw a hundred gil note onto the bar counter and stood up, turning to me once more. 

"I can't tell you how to lead you're life, but what I can tell you, is that if you're looking for a way out, go to Shinra." With that, he picked up his navy blue jacket and left the bar. 

I watched him leave. 

My attention turned to my untouched whiskey glass. The glass he had bought me. Suddenly deciding I didn't want it anymore, I left the bar. Running a hand through my extremely short black hair, I came up with a new theory.

You can't change what's happened, you can only put it behind you and move on.

I took a cigarette out of my trouser pocket and began searching for somewhere to crash for the night. 

For the first time in my life I was alone, but I'd get through it. 

I always did.

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**_ ....You can only put it behind you and move on._**

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End file.
